


goodnight

by thetr1ckster



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not Beta Read, Panic Attacks, Post-Canon, Short & Sweet, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 16:20:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17267381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetr1ckster/pseuds/thetr1ckster
Summary: Hajime's arms feel like home.





	goodnight

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday, Hajime. <3

Somehow, over the sound of the heavy downpour pelting against the roof of his cottage, Hajime was still able to hear the three knocks at his door in the middle of the night. However, the third knock was softer than the previous two, as if the person at the door hesitated.

Hajime put the cap back on his highlighter and dog-eared his psychology textbook, setting it on the coffee table in front of him. He studies every single night. Ever since he woke up from the Neo World Program, he requested that the Future Foundation supply him with enough resources so that he may educate himself on the field of mental health.

While therapy was mandatory for every survivor, he knew it wasn’t for everybody. He knew that for some people, talking to a friend was easier than talking to a doctor. So, he wanted to be ready. He wanted to be as informed as possible for any problems that may arise.

After every negative thing he’d done in his life, as both Hajime and Izuru, he knew he probably couldn’t handle any of the guilt if he somehow made his friends’ lives any worse when they needed him, and they did need him quite often.

Rising from his seat on the couch, he removed his reading glasses and tucked them into the collar of his sleep-shirt as he approached the door with his slippered-feet. Unlatching every lock first, he opened the door to find… no one.

He tilted his head in confusion before raising a hand up over his forehead, shielding his face from the rain. He peered outside, left then right until someone caught his eye.

In the distance, he saw a pale, shaky figure walking away with their back towards him.

“Hey, wait!” He called out loud enough to be heard over the storm, “Nagito! Hold on!”

Slowly, Nagito turned back toward him. Although his entire face was wet with raindrops, the pink blotches on his cheeks and puffy eyes showed clear signs of tears. Nagito’s distressed expression set off an alarm in Hajime’s head, causing him to run out to him.

He slowed as he approached and held out his hands cautiously, wordlessly asking permission to reach out and touch him. When Nagito didn’t shy away from his advancement, he set his hands on Nagito’s shoulders and gently shook them.

“Hey, you alright?” He asked softly, brows furrowing in concern.

“M’Sorry. It’s late. You’re probably tired,” The lump in Nagito’s throat bobbed as he muttered his response.

“I’m not. C’mon, let me take you inside, alright?”

He waited for Nagito’s approval before slowly walking them back to his cottage. Once the door was closed behind them, he stopped him at the entrance, “Let me grab you towel, I’ll be right back,” He disappeared briefly into the bathroom and did as he said, returning to Nagito and holding the cloth out to him.

When Nagito didn’t reach out to grab it from him, Hajime began to run it over his dripping wet hair. Once finished, he draped the towel over his neck and reached out to wipe the tears from his cheeks.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing.”

“I told you that you could always come to me if something’s up.”

“I know, but you always take care of everyone else. I don’t want to bother—“

“Everyone else isn’t here right now. You are. You’re my priority,” He tilted his head, trying desperately to catch his wandering bloodshot eyes, “You came to my room for a reason, what is it?”

Nagito’s bottom lip trembled and his eyes threatened more tears, “I… I…” The floodgates opened, “I’m sorry, Hajime…” He sobbed, falling into Hajime’s arms. Hajime did nothing but hold him close, running his fingers through his white locks and shushing him, “I… I hurt everyone!”

“Hey, shhh…” He tightened his hold on Nagito’s shaking frame, “It’s alright…”

“They all…” He choked, “They said they forgive me, but…” He inhaled sharply, “What if they were lying? They all probably hate me for all I did!”

Hajime backed away and held his face, leaving him no choice but to look at him, “Don’t you remember what your Doctor said… That wasn’t _you_. The Nagito you are _now_ is the real you. The fact that you feel remorse for something _you_ didn’t do just proves how worthy of forgiveness you are.”

“B-B-But…”

“No ‘buts,’” He embraced Nagito again, “If it means anything to you, _I_ forgive you. _I_ know who you really are and _I_ know it wasn’t your fault.”

“H-Hajime…” He whimpered.

“You can cry if you want to, but please remember what I said, promise?”

Nagito hicced, “P-Promise,” and for a few moments, he just cried, right there in Hajime’s arms. His tears were staining his shirt, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was the warmth radiating from Hajime’s body.

Upon waking up from the Neo World Program, physical affection was a new thing for Nagito. It wasn’t because he never welcomed it, but with his parents gone and his previous personalities managing to push everyone away, he never knew what regular physical affection felt like.

However, since he woke up, he learned how much he loved hugs, how much he loved being held, how much he loved the feeling of being caressed in another person’s arms. It was almost therapeutic for him, which is why his therapist began starting and ending every session with a nice long hug.

But no feeling could ever compare to how it felt to be in Hajime’s arms.

Whenever he got the chance to be in Hajime’s embrace (which wasn’t as often as he liked), all of his issues suddenly felt… distant. Like all that existed was the two of them, enveloped in Hajime’s distinct scent.

In his arms, he focused on his breathing, just as his therapist told him to. He felt Hajime’s heart beat steadily against his chest and tried his best to mimic it.

Within minutes, his panic attack had withered and he finally felt calm.

Hajime could feel Nagito’s body relax against his.

“You feeling better now?”

“Yeah… Thank you… For being here…”

“No need to thank me, I’m happy to help,” Nagito hummed before reluctantly releasing his hold on him. Hajime smiled brightly at him, and Nagito couldn’t help but smile back.

“Thank you,” He repeated.

“Don’t mention it,” Hajime responded, “So, what do you want to do? Do you want me to walk you back to your room or are you crashing here?”

Nagito tilted his head in confusion, “I can do that?”

Hajime shrugged, “If you want, I don’t mind. I’ll grab you some dry clothes and everything.”

Hesitating, Nagito shuffled on his feet before answered, “If you really don’t mind,” He answered with red cheeks.

Hajime only grinned before quickly turning on his heal to grab some clothes out of his dresser. He handed them to Nagito, who smiled graciously before moving to change in the bathroom. When he re-emerged, Hajime was making up the bed for him.

“What about you?” He asked from the bathroom’s entrance, dressed in Hajime’s clothes.

“Depends, do you want the bed to yourself?”

“Oh, uh…”

“And don’t say you won’t take the bed because I won’t accept that answer.”

“I…” Nagito gulped, swallowing back the need to say he’ll sleep on the floor, “Perhaps we can share it?”

“Alright,” Hajime shrugged again before pulling a second pillow out from under the bed and fluffing it. Nagito picked the side he wanted and made himself comfortable and after a few minutes, Hajime did the same. Turning off the light, Hajime spoke once more, “Goodnight, Nagito.”

“Goodnight.”

And there they laid, Nagito on his back and Hajime on his side, away from him. The space between them remained untouched. For a few minutes, Nagito remained wide awake and listened, to the distant waves crashing on the beach, to the raindrops peppering the window panes, to Hajime’s breathing beside him, in and out, in and out.

Despite the distance between their bodies, he began to feel Hajime’s warmth on his side, starting at his shoulder and all the way down his arm, until his metal prosthetic. The tease of body heat almost made him want to hug him again.

He wondered if it was too late to ask for one. He wondered if he was sleeping yet. He never spent the night with him before. How long does it usually take for him to fall asleep? Does his breathing pattern change when he’s finally out-cold? Perhaps he’s on Hajime’s preferred side of the bed, would that change his sleeping habit?

What was he thinking about? Or dreaming about, rather? Do people come to him in the middle of the night like this often? If so, how many of them does he offer to spend the night? How many of them oblige? How many of them have laid in the same bed as him, in the same spot, thought the same thoughts?

Maybe he’s not special. Maybe he _is_ just a nobody, unworthy of love and affection by someone as caring and amazing as Hajime. Maybe he’s ju—

“Nagito, what are you thinking about?”

“Huh?” Nagito startled at the sound of Hajime’s voice beside him.

“You’re fidgeting.”

“S-Sorry,” He hadn’t realized.

“Don’t apologize. Do you need anything?”

“Do you think… Do you think you can hug me again?”

Hajime turned his head slightly.

“Right now?”

Nagito didn’t respond. He had already been told not to apologize so he just shut his mouth and rolled over to his side, away from Hajime, putting as much distance between them as possible.

He bit his lip, tears burning in his eyes yet again. He bothered him. He let him into his cottage, let him stay the night, and yet he still had the audacity to ask for more. As if he’s worthy of—

Hajime’s body pressing against his back knocked him out of his rumination. His arms around him stopped his heart. And his legs tangled between his made his mouth go dry.

“Mmmm… Goodnight…” Hajime muttered into the back of his neck, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down his spine.

He wished he could talk. He wished he could thank him. God, he wished he could just say ‘goodnight.’ But he was rendered speechless. He hoped that maybe his feet curving around his legs and his hands gripping his arms tighter spoke the words that his voice couldn’t form.

 _Goodnight, Hajime_.


End file.
